


Eats Me Up Inside

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Dragon Sickness, Eating Disorders, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hobbits are accustomed to being well-fed, but Bilbo's too polite to just push in and grab the way the dwarrow do and there's not even scraps left by the time they've finished. But Bilbo doesn't complain; Thorin already finds him annoying and the others don't seem to care all that much for him either, so he tightens his belt and makes do...until he can't anymore. " HKM Prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It became almost a private challenge to himself, the longer it went on. He didn't like to say he was motivated by hurt feelings even if the company spent some time begrudging his plumpness and lack of muscles, though it certainly factored in. Afterall, Bilbo was not a particularly vain individual though he did put alot of emphasis on properness; he knew there were suppose to be differences between dwarrow and hobbits, one of those being plumpness. His mother had been a round woman, his father had been quite well fed and Bilbo, though he was quite scrawny in his youth from all his Tookish wanderings, had never gone without. Even the Fell Winter passed without their pantries becoming too bare, and now well into adulthood, Bilbo knew he was of average build for a hobbit, with his small, soft gut and chubby cheeks. He was nowhere near Bombur's girth but lacked the strength of even the company's heaviest dwarf. And that's what made the difference, and what led to one interesting thought.  
  
I did not expect to eat like a king on this journey, he thought with some amusement as he watched Thorin stuff his mouth to burst just like the others, I can make do when the company are the ones shouldering most of the journey's troubles.  
  
And it made perfect sense in his mind. He would do with a bit of weight loss if it made him just a bit quicker on his feet and prevented him from panting like a woman in labor after a quick sprint. The dwarrow were fighting orcs, carrying him when his short stature proved to be a problem, and they shouldered far heavier supply packs after the ponies were lost. Bilbo acknowledged that they needed to eat more, needed the energy to keep going far more than he, the weakest of then, and while the bits left over were hardly filling...Bilbo could make do. He'd fill up at Rivendell, and at Beorn's and in Laketown...and the rest of the time, he'd make do.  
  
Still, there were two points in their journey that Bilbo thought he may need to say something about his...concerns. It weighted heavily on him for days as the dizziness failed to dissipate and the quivering in his boney limbs seemed to worsen as they neared the Misty Mountain. It was this, and the rain and the quaking of the mountain that made his usually sure and steady feet lose their grip on the ledge. Followed by Thorin's harsh words, and once the adrenaline wore off, Bilbo had nearly outed himself to Bofur as he, feeling somewhat feverish and like he couldn't control his mouth, blurted out a mess about leaving and about not fitting in. He didn't really want to go to Rivendell and therefore give up on the journey but just thinking of the food they had in excess there...he could just return for a time, they all could, and stuff themselves full until the floor stopped feeling like it was moving beneath their feet-  
  
But then, before he accidentally spoke the words, he'd fallen with the rest of the company and starving or not, he had no choice but to fight his way out, to run staggeringly from Orcs.  
  
Beorn's hospitality could not have come soon enough and it took days before Bilbo stopped feeling cold and like the slightest movement would make him collapse. He started off with simple meals, small portions that were easy on his stomach but he was indeed a food-driven hobbit and soon, he was greedily grabbing handfuls and chowing down just like the dwarrow surrounding him. The skinchanger's words, though Bilbo knew he did not mean for them to be taken as cruel, stung because he was becoming like he was, a fat little hobbit that only slowed the company down. Truly, it didn't take long for the excess meals to weigh him down instead of energize and restore his strength. He tried to limit his intake then, trying to eat just enough to prevent himself from being sluggish but the food, after having gone without for so long...he could only last for so long, usually splurging at dinner after a day of fasting. And as he cried himself to sleep with a burgeoning belly...but it all turned out alright in the end, he reasoned tough the memory of his lack of control quite shamed him.

Had he not overindulged at Beorn's, perhaps he would have not lived to help the dwarrow escape the dungeons of Mirkwood. The spiders had taken alot out of him and he suspected that using the ring did not come without a price. Then, as he scampered along high archways and hid along pathways in the hope of finding the company...hm, but perhaps if he had not been so plump, he would have found them all sooner?  
  
But that was beside the point. It took him weeks of running about, of relaying messages between the company, of small bits of food when he was certain that it would not be noticed and that he truly couldn't go without...and then, the wine barrels. He had no choice but to jump into the freezing water, follow after the dwarrow and hope for the best. He doesn't know where he gets the strength to cling to the side of the barrel, and honestly, he likely would have drowned if Gloin hadn't kept a tight grip on the collar of his blazer. When they've made it to land, soaking wet and exhausted, he thinks he may have to say something when he can't even manage to haul himself out of the water. Bofur drags him to shore and Thorin appears above him with wide eyes but he can't get the words out. He blacks out for a bit, bones digging into the warm shore but then he's being nudged awake once more. He pants heavily, shakes like a leaf but when they ask if he is hurt...he shakes his head.  
  
It's nearly impossible to stand, and in the end Dwalin wraps a hand around his bicep and hauls him up with an irritated grumble. He should say something, he thinks but then...Laketown wasn't far.  
  
The sickness that grips him in the town of Men is fierce, but with Kili injured he tries not to make a fuss. As well, the company's spirits had been raised, knowing they're so close to the mountain, so close to the end of their journey. But there is still the matter of the dragon, Bilbo thinks as he lies in bed for the third day in a row. Food is the last thing on his mind and really, if this cough would let him be, maybe he could slip off to sleep. His wishes seem to be granted for after five minutes of reprieve, he starts to doze...only to have the door to his room shoved open. He stares out from his nest of blankets to find a somber Oin carrying a chipped, steaming mug. He closes his eyes fast, hoping the old dwarf will let him be, but no such luck.  
  
"Up, laddie. Ye need'a drink this."  
  
Bilbo tries to clear his throat but ends up coughing harshly for several minutes.  
  
"Yer wastin' away, " the healer scolds when he presses the back of his hand to the hobbit's forehead, " Shouldn't be missin' meals in yer condition. Bombur will bring ya alil' somethin' from now on."  
  
The broth settles uneasily in his shrunken belly; the medicinal hint might have been a warning he thinks when he slowly falls asleep to the sounds of Oin pulling up a chair. When he wakes to the sound of Bombur settling down a breakfast tray, Bilbo is feeling a little better and in a week's time he's recovered enough that eating is no longer a necessity. By then, they're boarding a boat and heading towards the mountain, towards what might be a fiery death but he's come this far, the former gentlehobbit thinks as he adjusts the baggy clothing that Bard's son had offered. With all that was behind them, turning back wasn't even a thought he entertained.


	2. Chapter 2

The dragon is certainly a frightening affair, if one that is quickly resolved. It wasn't Bilbo's destiny to slay the dragon after all (as if he could have!), instead Bard's though the cost to the people of Laketown is great. Bilbo mourns for them and when Thorin denies them aid...he knows then that the sickness has consumed him. This is far greater a problem then the issue of rationing as they hide away in the mountain, even if giving up his rations turns out to be a quick fix as the weeks press on. It is then, much like he was in Mirkwood, that the idea comes. It keeps him up as he lies freezing on concrete as he curls stick limbs around the stone in his coat; it haunts him as he stands swayingly beside Thorin as the one person the King does not expect to betray him. He must have been half mad, he thinks now that it's all over, offering the stone to Bard and the elven king and then admitting his traitorous act as if he'd borrowed a cup of sugar.

He escapes with only finger shaped bruises around his neck and Gandalf asks him to remain in the elvish tents when the back up plan to trade the stone falls through. Shamed and knowing his friends will all be on the battle field, it's not something Bilbo can do.

"You foolish hobbit!" the wizard at last bellows, " You've hardly the strength to stand!"

"They are my friends-"

"And they have fallen to greed and will happily go down with their mountain. But you...you must stay where it's safe, friend. Recover from this journey and accept that nothing can be done to stop this war."

The wizard had left him to this thoughts then and Bilbo, exhausted and so very hungry with the scents of food wafting into his tent...he couldn't do it. He couldn't give up, he knows as he dons the ring and struggles to lift his small sword. When the horn warns him that the orcs have arrived he staggers out of the tent and eventually to Ravenhill.

\---  
He can't speak, can't move even though he hears familiar voices calling his name. The ring burns on his finger but he otherwise doesn't have a grip on his body. Really, he feels like he's as light as a cloud and soon to be blown away...

\---  


Bilbo rejoins the waking world thanks to an astringent scent, pain as they jar his head in order to feel his pulse at his jugular, frustrated voices as a bright light is shone in both of his eyes, and then broth being poured down his throat. He tries to struggle but his limbs won't move; he tries to cry out but he's afraid he'll choke and he nearly does in spite of his compliant swallows. He half sobs and half coughs when they finally pull the mug away; broth comes out his nose and drips down his front, and it's then he realizes there are hands gripping his arms.

"Careful, we don't know the extent of his head injury-

"It's alright, halfing. Just relax-"

"No, no, please-" he tries but his voice is gone and his head aches furiously; though his vision is oddly distorted and the cold is a strong distraction, he sees Gandalf from behind the familiar and unfamiliar dwarrow faces. He tries to convey a request for help but the wizard just looks at him sadly, never saying a word. They lift the mug to his lips again and he can only turn his face away, his stomach already revolting at the little bit he swallowed. They coo at him but also grumble, a mix of indecipherable Westron and gruff Khuzdul.

"You must eat, " one says and he knows them but can't come up with a name, " You've been asleep for too long, Bilbo."

"Please, " he just wants to gather his barrings, wants the pain stop; don't they know that food will weigh him down, will keep him from running and hiding and fighting as the company needs? He feels himself slipping back into darkness but then there's the smell; he watches as a small bottle is removed from near his face, and it takes him a moment to realize that's what's keeping him awake. By this time, they're forcing broth and tonic down his throat but it just starts to come back up.

"Don't fight us, lad-"

"I mustn't-"

But the healers (he assumes that's what they are and later this is confirmed) don't let him fall back asleep, nor do they relent until his belly is uncomfortably full. He cries weakly as they leave him with worried frowns and conspiratorial whispers, all but one with two curled, grey braids, who pats his hand gently as if he's a child. Gandalf approaches soon after the door to the dimly lit room he's in slams shut (he doesn't recognize this lodging and only later on is he told he had been taken into the mountain for treatment). The tall Man bites his lip, combing a hand through Bilbo's thin, sweat soaked hair.

"Oh, old friend...you'll be alright."


	3. Chapter 3

They don't leave him alone in the days to come, coming in shifts to force broth down his throat and wake him despite the pain in his head. They keep the lights down, try to keep him warm at least, and eventually he starts to recognize some of them. Oin comes often, Bofur as well and then Fili appears holding his hand wordlessly as they press a mug to his tightly closed lips. The broth is thick this time, full of potato and meat but he refuses...until they pinch his nose shut, grip his jaw and he no longer can.  
  
"You're skin and bone, " the prince says, pinning his left arm down as a healer takes a moment to stir a foul poultice for his head; Bilbo is startled by the assessment but he tries to justify it soon after. He's skin and bone, compared to the obese thing he had once been; likely the dwarrow had become use to his terrible physique on the journey but little did they know that he had sworn to himself that he would never become that again. That seemed difficult given how often they forced him to eat but he would be alright and really, given that it was winter now and the men and women in Dale were likely in great need (Dain likely had the dwarrow secure), it seemed foolish to be worrying about one, pathetic hobbit. They'd realize that soon enough.  
  
He doesn't realize he's dozed off until he wakes to a whispered conversation and the familiar tightness of a new bandage around his head.  
  
"-hasnt composed a formal address, but surely they know-"  
  
"Do they?" Gandalf is saying, arguing with Fili in a whisper from where he sits at Bilbo's bedside. It's the first time he has woken on his own, and without having to address the immediate fear of being force-fed.  
  
"Why else would we expend so much effort to treat a traitor? Dain is well aware of Uncle's intentions-"  
  
"We'll continue this another time, " the wizard cuts in," Bilbo, how are you feeling this evening?"  
  
Fili jerks, braids bouncing as he turns to face said hobbit, " Oh! Are you feeling well enough for Oin's tonic? The old coot will be in any second now."  
  
Bilbo feels a spike of fear run through him because no, he doesn't want a tonic or food or anything of the sort. He wants to go as far away from these dwarrow as possible but when he tries to sit up his neck rolls, as if he can't support the weight of his head and his arms shake, atlast collapsing with the effort. A hand comes behind him, helping him bend forward enough for a pillow to be slipped behind him. Gandalf, whereas he had been smiling at him before, eyes him wearily when he speaks.  
  
"I'd rather...if that's alright."  
  
Clearing his throat, Fili tried to joke, " A foul tasting thing, it surely is. Kili and I endured it as well."  
  
"But it was a necessity."  
  
Fili looks sheepish at Gandalf's words, " We wouldn't have healed nearly as fast without it. It's not...we understand it's unpleasant but we hope you'll, well..."  
  
"Come now, Bilbo, " Gandalf says sharply when the prince trails off; his voice is surprisingly stern and his words effectively make Bilbo feel like he's in the wrong, " Don't you think you've been petulant long enough? What do you gain from fighting the healers?"  
  
"No, " Bilbo grits his teeth as he struggles for words; he never had problems like this before but his tongue seemed heavy and his thoughts were jumbled, " Thank you."  
  
"When we left the shire you were a healthy 83lbs and now...perhaps I should have commented earlier. But even in this state I take you for a rational creature. Have you ever known a fully grown hobbit to survive at 50lbs?''  
  
Bilbo does startle at that because surely he does not weigh so little. He eyes the way his bones and tendons are visible in his hands...but surely he is not so light. He can feel the fat around his middle, and he suspects his thighs and cheeks are just as pudgy as they've always been. He is not as plump as before, of course, but he is not truly starving. He'll be alright as long as he doesn't give in because it's not that he isn't hungry, or that he doesn't want to eat. No, it's that he won't be able to stop. He remembers what happened at Beorn's and how hard it was to steal only a mouthful in Mirkwood when he felt like he could clear a pantry in one sitting. No, he can't eat when it'll only result in overindulgence and disgusting plumpness.

And while the company appreciated him now, their hearts light and spirits raised now that Erebor was restored, he knew they would cast him out even sooner than anticipated if he returned to his previous, useless state. As it was, his days in the mountain were numbered and as he suspected from Fili and Gandalf's chat, Thorin was likely quite ready for him to head West once more. And that thought hurt far worse than his head, or his empty gut, or anything he had experienced thus far.  
  
"No, " he says when the door opens and in walks Oin, followed by a limping Kili, " Please, no-"  
  
"Bilbo, you must, " Kili insists as Bilbo tries to move away from them, letting out a hiss when the pillow behind his slips; hands are on him soon enough he knows what comes next. They'll force his mouth open, keep him from inhaling until he's accepted the sustenance. He'll feel it slid down his throat, into his belly where it will settle like shame and then he'll be one step closer to being all alone, back in his properly furnished smial that no one ever visited. But if he could just take control of the situation-  
  
He whimpered when he felt his arms being held down while another helped him sit up; he could smell the soup now, the delicious, buttery potato soup. He had to take control now-  
  
"Uncle, thank Mahal! Maybe you can talk some sense into him! "  
  
Bilbo's eyes snap open and there in the door way is Thorin, regal despite the bruise on his cheek and the bandages peeking from his right sleeve. Grim faced, the King approaches Bilbo's bed and it is then that a sob escapes him; of course he would break down in front of the one person who would be offended by such weakness but he was coming to see how hopeless this was. Did he really think he could be useful to a king, even if he lost the fat, learned to fight, and swallowed his fears in order to face a dragon?  
  
"Dear burglar, why must you be so difficult?" the raspy voice is laced with an emotion that Bilbo is stunned to identify; it almost sounds as if...as if Thorin is upset.  
  
"Please Bilbo, " Kili says from behind him, likely the one keeping him upright, " Just a few bites? You have to eat!"  
  
"It's good soup, " Oin says, " Aye, Bombur did a fine job. Figured watery boar stew weren't an easy thing for a hobbit."  
  
"And the sooner you put on some weight, the sooner you can stop taking the tonics. Then, we can show you around the mountain. It's coming along quite well, " Fili says, his eyes hopeful.  
  
Thorin finally addresses him when his tears have slowed; he reaches for a lump under the blanket, his hand closing around Bilbo's ankle, " The Lonely Mountain is surely on her way, halfing, due to your efforts and loyalty. But her progress stills relies on the company. You...you must recover and help guide her to prosperity. "  
  
He's not expecting this and part of him thinks he really did suffer a debilitating head injury and that this was all just a dream (or nightmare). And yet he knows he wouldn't have been capable of dreaming up such sincerity in Thorin's eyes. Did the king truly mean for Bilbo to stay? This boggled his mind all the more but it also made it clear that perhaps...perhaps he was being a tad irrational, as Gandalf had said (the wizard was eyeing him now, as if knowing what his thoughts we). A bit of soup wouldn't make him a glutton (it would) nor would a single spoonful restore him to his former girth (it could)...he could appease them, get his strength back, and stop before it all went too far. So as much as Bilbo hates it, as much as he feels like he's accepting failure...he accepts the spoonful of soup that Oin offers and after a moment of contemplation, of wanting desperately to spit it out, he looks at the hand Thorin has on his ankle and he swallows.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?view=26674110#t26674110

Given how the company behaved during their journey, it truly was a surprise when Bofur decided that the best way to perk his appetite was to not make him eat alone. This was after his head had started to pain him less, and after force feeding had been disregarded. He had gotten their hopes up it seemed when he'd started nibbling on his own, meaning they thought a soft hand would lead to progress, but the king had not appeared again. As a result, in two days time he had talked himself out of eating any more.

The healers were at the end of their patience so the company took it upon themselves to visit him with smiles and descriptions of various Ereborean dishes, though they left with frowns and uneaten meals. But today Bofur appeared with a steaming tray and his kin by his side, looking overjoyed at finding Bilbo awake.

"A grand idea, we had, " chirps the miner as the three of them settle around him; Bombur, still wearing an apron and a chef's hat, is already chewing on a perfectly cooked sausage, " It'll be just like old times!"

Bifur, still dusty from his morning work, " Only, we've upgraded from potatoes and swill."

Bilbo stares because unless he had actually learned Khuzdul and had subsequently forgotten... Bifur had just spoken to him, and Bilbo had understood him. He must have looked surprised because the Ur brothers were soon laughing.

"Oh, no one mentioned? Bifur here lost his axe! Now it's lodged in an orc somewhere-"

"As it should be, " Bombur concludes around a mouthful of biscuit.

"Aye, " all three say, and the room is silent for a brief moment.

Bilbo just stares, a little overwhelmed when Bofur suddenly sits down on the edge of the bed. He's stirring what looks to be rice pudding and then he's holding a spoonful out to Bilbo, " We toiled all mornin' to bring ye our mum's secret, special puddin'. Why, she'd likely roll over in her grave if ye turned yer nose up at this!"

Bifur furrowed his brow as Bombur, cheeks full, suddenly looked alarmed, "Yer mum's not dead..."

Bofur snorted, " A minor detail. Anywho. Down the hatch!"

The spoons knocks against Bilbo's teeth, Bofur having taken the opportunity given to him when the hobbit had opened his mouth to retort. They watched him intently; as soon as the creamy rice hit his tongue he started to salivate; he would have to decide soon, spit it out and offend his friends (where would he even spit?) or accept the mouthful, as his friends all wanted. But it wasn't as easy as all that, he thought though looking into their expectant eyes...the mouthful slid down his throat and into his belly. He looked down at his lap in shame but Bofur was already talking up a storm.

"Here we've our Uncle Bufir's chicken soup, quite famous in the Blue Mountains, if ye must know-"

"Adad didn't cook-"

The meal is entirely unlike what he remembered of dwarf eating habits. While they still ate fast and they did seem to ignore their utensils completely, there was no shoving, or fighting or anything of the sort. Perhaps they were being mindful of him in his weakened state, which he both appreciated and disliked. He wasn't strong enough for a rowdy affair but he was disappointed that he didn't have an out. They didn't knock the biscuit from his hand, or spill his soup, though he wished one of them would so he had no choice but to take a bite, chew (a hundred times or more) and then...swallow.

He expects (hopes) that when Bombur finishes his plate, the dwarf will reach for Bilbo's but Bifur slaps his cousin's hand. And instead of focusing on their own meals the whole time, they pay close attention to how long Bilbo goes without a bite and often gather a spoonful for him. He feels frustrated with them because he's eaten so much. His hand finds its way to his belly and while he can still feel the sharp edge of his ribcage, there is a lump where his body used to concave. It upsets him noticeably and to his sheer gratitude, they stop trying to feed him then. 

Instead, they talk about the mountain, about council meetings with Bard and Thranduil (that they luckily don't have to attend unless it's something to do with cooking, mining or carving), and a little about Thorin as they finish up their meal.

By the end, Bilbo is asleep and they finally have good news to bring to Thorin.

\---

"You haven't visited, " Balin asks after what had been a companionable silence up until then.

Thorin doesn't bother pretending he doesn't know what his adviser is speaking of, " Is it really so hard to believe that I dislike seeing him in such a way?"

The white haired dwarf sighs as he comes around the writing desk, a stack of documents in his hands but he doesn't offer them to the king just yet, " It is a terrible sight. As it was during the majority of our journey."

"We did not know back then that he was doing it to himself, " Thorin said harshly because he wanted to be able to blame Bilbo, to knock some sense into him as was their way but they had heard and seen with their own eyes...the company knew this wasn't a fight to be won with force. While they had hoped Bilbo's reluctance to eat was the result of his injury and thus soon to be resolved, they soon recalled his thinness on the journey when struggles continued. He hadn't started out skin and bones but, it was hard to remember whether or not Bilbo had been reluctant to eat at the very beginning. His pantry had been well stocked, he had a plumpness to him that showed his comfortable lifestyle but they couldn't recall the creature grabbing up plates and claiming his rations in a flurry like the others, not even once; had he even eaten the night they burst into his smial? They could at least agree that he ate well in Rivendell (he seemed to like the greenery much more than the rest of the company) and at Beorn's. Even in Laketown where the hobbit suffered a cold, he had easily accepted the meals Bombur brought so it really was just a confusing mess of when and most importantly, why.

"He's not doing this as a slight against you, your highness, " Balin says dryly, the title hanging between them as a barely concealed insult, " He...the journey was not easy, especially for one so sheltered."

"So he should be glad to return to generous meals and warm beds. He should be happy within the mountain."

Thorin gives pauses, realizing he has revealed far too much because part of his turmoil is certainly the belief that this illness of the mind is his doing. While he had not liked the hobbit at first (he now regretted his harsh treatment all the more given these new developments), Bilbo had proven himself to be a worthy member of the company and above all else a friend. And to have his friend suffer so, to be so unhappy at his side...Thorin wondered if Bilbo would recover if he returned to the shire, and resumed life among his own kind. 

A quill snapped in his hand, surprising him as the ink spread out across the report seeking his acknowledgment and stained his hand. Balin tutted at him as he offered him a handkerchief, only that seemed to remind Thorin of his painful thoughts concerning their burglar. He did not want Bilbo to leave; he wanted the halfling to stay at his side as a loyal friend and confidant as he restored his homeland to her former glory. But he knew he could not ask that of Bilbo, when he was clearly so burdened. It was likely Bilbo would pass it off, would try to hide his discontent and that would surely be worse then him leaving.

"I don't believe it is what you think, lad, " Balin says gently as he goes to dispose of the ink saturated cloth, " He did as you asked of him. Do not shun him now when it is your word he clings to."

"I truly hope so, " Thorin says because he knows he cannot hide away any longer, the two days he's hidden being long enough. He is a proud king, and leader to their band of fourteen...he will not let his emotions get in the way of helping Bilbo recover. The only problem is he does not know how to help him. And then, a knock at his chamber door comes and like a gift from Mahal, he is given the answer.


	5. Chapter 5

To Bilbo's surprise, since he was so used to people barging in without a care for respectfulness and privacy, Thorin knocked and hesitantly stated his business before he pushed open the door. His heart beat rapidly as the king entered, his blue eyes to the floor as an unfamiliar dwarf tottered after him with two trays of food. If there had been a light source in the room, Bilbo may have been able to guess the time of day but as it was, he could only assume it was near the end of the evening. Likely Thorin had just come from a council meeting given his crownn and regal wear, and that flattered Bilbo quite a bit, that the king preferred a visit to finally escaping to his own chambers to relax. He had missed the king and while he appreciated that the company visited (appreciated the conversation and distraction even if he hated their pushiness and inquires about his health), he had most wanted to see the elder Durin. Aswell, he found himself relieved that Thorin did not look like he was upset with him, meaning his absence hadn't been because of Bilbo's shameful behavior the days prior.

He simply had more important things to attend to, Bilbo thought, scolding himself, You can not expect royalty to have time to constantly visit one sick hobbit when they have a kingdom to run!

"Master Baggins, " Thorin paused and finally looked up from the ground, " Bilbo. I had hoped you would sup with me. I have...missed our conversations."

"I assume that means you did not appreciate the conversation skills of your council this afternoon?"

Thorin groaned and with a slight wince, sat down in the armchair placed to Bilbo's left; the unknown dwarf quickly began settling the dinner trays in front of them and eventually, with a nod from Thorin, the stranger bowed and departed. Looking at the steaming food, Bilbo felt a little queasy but before he could begin working himself up, he found himself being addressed.

"That female hobbit you speak of so fondly, " Thorin says dryly, " What is her name; Bolella, Lobelle? No matter. Imagine yourself locked in a conversation with fourteen of her..."

Bilbo gasped, " Don't tell me the council is after your spoons, your majesty!"

Thorin let out a barking laugh, his eyes dancing with amusement, " Aye, in a way. Two want overseership of Dale, which surely they know would negate what we have offered Master Bard as part of our truce. Others want control of our mines, and to flood the kingdom with Ironhill dwarves as if the mining of gems should be priority with winter on its way! And the rest of them offer such petty concerns, all demanding to be heard- Most of them are of Dain's council and it seems apparent that their heart is not in Erebor, but the Ironhills..."

"Is there a particular reason you chose those dwarfs for your council then?" Bilbo asked tentatively.

Thorin scowled as he rubbed his bandaged arm self consciously; he was likely recalling his convalescence which Bilbo had scarcely heard about, only that the king had been on bedrest, much like him, for a week, " The council was formed while I was...unaware. My nephew, having just woken from his grievous wounds, did not know he was being manipulated when he gave his approval. Though, if I were to replace its members...I know of few who would be accepted without fuss, and even fewer who would likely accept."

"Well, " Bilbo said carefully, half joking, "  When push comes to shove, you could always appoint the company. A rowdy bunch we'd be, and there were certainly be a fuss but at least you could be confident that Erebor's success would be the forefront of our minds."

This seemed to be exactly what Thorin wanted to hear; he smiled with such care at the hobbit, enough that Bilbo could feel a blush turning his cheeks and ears to a deep red. Perhaps it was presumptuous of him to think that because Thorin was here and acting so friendly, that he would be allowed to stay, and that he would be considered a good candidate for leadership, when he was not even a dwarf. But that didn't seem to be the case and for a moment, Bilbo relaxed, even smiled in relief at the dwarf's next words.

"Am I to take that as confirmation that you plan to stay, " Thorin seems to stumble over his words, likely remembering the dragon sickness and his hateful words; Bilbo disliked seeing him looking so torn when he had long accepted the king's apology on Ravenhill, " If you were to join my council, I indeed would feel I had someone worthy of my trust advising me."

"I would be, well, if you would have me. I'd be honored t-to stay, " Bilbo's happiness was nearly suffocating and then, just like that, it was extinguished.

Thorin suddenly addressed his plate, digging into the generous slab of meat and the gravy smothered potato. He took many hearty bites, humming his content before he raised his eyes to Bilbo, who had gone quite still. He had been so happy to have a visitor, to have Thorin speak to him so freely that he allowed himself to forget the expectations associated with the visit. Apparently Bofur had passed on that Bilbo could be out stubborn-ed which meant more shared meals, more weight gain, more shame-

"Is the food not to your liking?" There is a sharpness in Thorin's voice that has Bilbo wincing, " Is there something more palatable I can send for?"

He clears his throat awkwardly, and dips his spoon into the murky soup since there is no way that after a week of unconsciousness, days of barely holding down more easily digestible things, that they would offer him the same meal plan as the king (and thank goodness for that!) His silence only harden's Thorin eyes and finally words come tumbling out of his constricting throat as his mind attempts to come up with a logical excuse, " No, no. It...is allfine, thank you. I am still full from Bofur, Bombur and Bifur's visit. Oh, it was an interesting visit, truly. Did you know? I thought myself hearing things when Bifur spoke for the first time in perfect Westron-"

"Yes, it was quite the pleasant surprise. He took great care in addressing each of the company, once we were all up and recovered, in Khuzdul and then slipping into Westron to see if we would immediately notice. It took Kili some time and Gloin had to be told, " Thorin says lightly but does not allow the change of subject, " And are you truly? Why, I was told they visited you many hours ago!"

"Oh? I...I fear I don't have the greatest grasp of time. I usually use the light from windows to determine, um..."

"Surely you must be ravenous! Here, perhaps you only need one bite to awaken your appetite."

The tray was shoved a little closer and Bilbo could feel a spike of irrational anger. Didn't Thorin hear him say he was full?  Didn't he understand why he couldn't just eat, given that the king had known and seen him struggle at the start of their journey because of his weight? But maybe the king didn't see these things as clearly as Bilbo, he suddenly thought. Likely their friendship made his lack of an appetite harder to accept and further, he may not understand that Bilbo was not as controlled and composed as he appeared. And Bilbo preferred that actually; he didn't want anyone to know he was such a glutton for surely then they would wish him gone. But if he didn't eat, at least when they were watching, they would be upset. Even know, Thorin was half scowling and while he knew he shouldn't...Bilbo bit into the soft, flaky bread and it tasted so good, he thought guiltily but though he wanted to shove the whole thing in his mouth...he ate slowly, carefully in tiny, controlled bites that he chewed at least a hundred times as was his secret rule.

"Bilbo..."

Said hobbit looked up, chewing still and trying to look like the act of eating something so fattening didn't bother him. After all, he could do this. He had eaten this morning, and now he was consuming a second meal but it was...nothing; perhaps just half the soup and the biscuit would be enough to appease his friend. Taking another bite, Bilbo watched as Thorin's face softened a bit and to the hobbit's luck, apparently he wouldn't be as pushy as Bofur.

"I am...relieved that you are recovering, " Thorin once more struggled to speak his mind but at last he placed a gentle hand on Bilbo's small shoulder, " I am now confident that the future will hold great things."

\---

"An immigration moratorium would likely lead to some conflict but surely the Ironhills and the Blue Mountain understand that Erebor lacks the resources, " Bilbo croaks, looking peeved when Balin handed him a mug with casualness, " ...Thank you. Perhaps they need it spelled out clearer, with an actual report on what we're facing this winter?"

"Fer once, it's not really the Ironhill councilmembers that's pushin', even if we drafted a report quick enough, " Dwalin explains, " Dwarrow who fled Erebor are itchin' to return. Scarce food and winter storms won't deter 'em, especially after the hardships of bein' homeless."

Bilbo shook his head in frustration, finally lifting the mug to his closed lips; he thinks just the gesture will appease the two brothers but Dwalin still reaches for him to steady his hand and tip the mug enough that the warm liquid sloshes against his mouth and the tip of his nose. He glares at the warrior but cornered, he takes a minuscule sip.

"The people of Laketown are taking up Dale's ruins and parts of the mountain, " Balin confirms as he disregards his spoon completely and slurps up the last of his cinnamon-sugar ladden porridge, " Hm. Which makes us heavily reliant on the elves and our allies to the East. Dain understands that we're in a tough spot but he can do little to discourage our kin from making the journey. They left everything behind when the dragon attacked and surely they're motivated by a desire to-

"They don't want Men taking what's theirs, even if it's already ruined from years of neglect. So we can expect a lot more mouths to feed, as dwarrow come from both East and West to stake their claim before the spring rush, " Bilbo says.

Balin groans, " An awful situation it is, but not much can be done. A moratorium won't stop the caravans already on their way."

"Do we have any estimates of how many? Perhaps I can..." Bilbo frowns, nose wiggling in contemplation, " I could speak with the elves about green houses, if the soil is not fallow."

"Now lad, let's not put the cart 'fore the ox, " Dwalin said bluntly, " The weedeaters are only interested in helping Bard and allot of work goes into buildin' such things. Ye haven't left your sickbed yet!"

"I am aware, " Bilbo said with gritted teeth; both dwarrow now looked as if they regretted allowing the breakfast conversation to shift to political matters. Though, they hadn't really had a choice given it had been pestering Bilbo since he had spoken with Thorin last night. Today's afternoon council meeting would involve the appointment of five new council members, Balin and Dwalin among them, and it would be wonderful if they could also bring some new ideas with their appointment. Bilbo had already begun making plans and developing the suggestions he would offer up until he was well enough to be appointed himself; truly, having something to look forward to had made him feel more awake though his' friends doubt dimmed that a bit. Counting when he had not been awake, he had been bedridden for going on ten days, making brief excursions to the bathroom or the otherside of the room with help; perhaps his ideas about greenhouses really were outrageous but... " I would likely be in a supervising role for the most part. If there is one thing hobbits are good for, it is growing things. If we managed a staple crop here, and if the winter is mild-"

Balin patted the blanket over Bilbo's knee with an indulgent smile, " We can think about all tha' a bit later, when you're back on your feet. Now, how about some more honeyed milk?"

 


	6. Chapter 6

Even if he is embarrassed that he's so out of shape, Ori's excitement is catching and Bilbo can't help but smile when he manages to get out of bed, pat the far wall and return to the four poster at a sluggish pace, with only an occasional hand at his elbow to stabilize him. He's not out of breath or ready to collapse like days before but it's still tiring (pathetic) and while he knows its from the weight gain (Oin refused to say how much that was, only hummed approvingly), he has forced himself to believe that eventually he'll get back on track. This was simply a bump in the road and he could see where the company was coming from; he would have been beside himself if a friend began to display signs of an eating issue but he was a different case. He had not been a fit creature and could spare a few pounds, where as a muscular and hale dwarf refusing food...but they would come to understand the difference. Bilbo would not allow himself to get rotund and if he indulged just enough to please them, kept his consumption to the bare minimum until he could go back to managing his obesity without people sticking their nose into his business-

"Thank you, " he says sheepishly as Nori balls up his blankets and then goes to help Dori redress the bed, " T-this is quite a generous gift-"

The weaver of them, the eldest Ri Brother, had apparently taken the time after the battle to salvage all the linens in the mountain, turning some into quilts and hand-repairing others. When there seemed to be an excess of fabric at the end of this job, he took to creating clothes to be layered as winter progressed and cushy pillows, wash cloths and bandages aswell, which some Ironhill dwarrow joining the effort. Gloin had told him all of this during lunch (aswell as the story of Gimli's first chin hair), speaking in addition to this about Bifur and Bofur's formation of a carpentry guild tasked with refurbishing furniture and scraping the rest for firewood; metal was to be melted down and used for repairs or the creation of other necessary goods since the roads were soon to close. Bilbo was astonished by all the progress, especially when he learned that with the help of the elves, Dale had officiallt been made a suitable place for Bard's people.

"Nonsense, those must've been coarse on your skin, " Dori said as he remade the bed with soft blue sheets and a forest green quilt, the golden tassels on the ends glimmering like real metal, " These should be much more comfortable, Mister Baggins, and I hope these pillows are more efficient for sitting up. The others surely gave you a crick in your neck, I dare say!"

"And tha's not all, " Ori chirped, hovering as Bilbo carefully crawled into bed.

"Not that we don't appreciate the flash of leg-" Nori started, leering before Dori flipped the blanket over Bilbo's lower half; the nightgown which had been hemmed to just above the hobbit's ankle, had ridden to his knee but no farther.

"You're such a slight figure now, " Dori intervened with an odd look in his eye though it quickly disappeared; the grey haired dwarf smiled warmly, " We'd be hard pressed to find something in your size so I thought you would like something other than a child's nightgown to venture out in-"

Bilbo flushed even more at that but he didn't think it was meant to make him sheepish; he had originally been stripped to his small clothes but they had later gifted him with some of Prince Frerin's clothing (he was but a child when Erebor fell), though the majority of them were too ill fitting or heavy. It had been awkward then, being exposed and finding that his odd body was the subject of much conversation and it was a little awkward now; when had Dori taken his measurements? Suddenly, from a grumbling Nori a bundle emerged much like the bed set; a deep navy tunic with silver stitching was presented along with a white undershirt and brown trousers. The material was all very heavy but thin compared to what the others wore; he smiled gratefully, reaching out as Nori stepped closer with a devious smile.

"A few braids, a handful of beads, and Thorin's council will surely erupt!"

"While I hesitate to agree with this oaf, " Dori said gently, " I think you will look rather fetching. Do you like them? As you recover, I believe I can let them out a tad-"

Bilbo gasped, "They're wonderful, everything is so finely made! It must have taken so long. Thank you, all three of you. Why, to think I've nothing to give either of you-"

"Coin? I accept gems as well, " Nori said with a wink, " In special cases, I also accept more personal- 

"Just focus on getting well, " Dori interrupted as Ori began to wiggle in his seat, " Yes, please do! I can't wait to show you the library! It's untouched by the dragon and so big! Why, with a bit of dusting, I think I could live there. "

Nori rolled his eyes, " Only you would want to live among books! "

"T-there's nothing wrong with reading. Some people, u-unlike yerself, want to better themselves!"

"As if I could become better than I already am-"

Petting the smooth fabric, admiring the careful stitching and deep colors, Bilbo listened to the three bicker as dinner was brought in. With the clothes settled on the nightstand near his bed and a heaping tray in front of him, he felt his resolve had been strengthened a bit and he only took four bites (three and a half since some of his soup splashed the napkin tucked into the wide collar of his shirt; he had flinched when Nori made to steal Ori's biscuit but was smacked by Dori's fork) before he pretended to nod off. It was only half a lie; he was tired but thinking of the beautiful clothes Dori gave him having to be let out...he wouldn't allow that to happen.

"Come now, " Dori cooed like he was a child (or full grown dwarf) protesting vegetables, " Just one tiny bite more?"

"Brother, he's dozing off already. Do you want him to choke? Plus, me and Ori know one tiny bite is followed by four massive bites..."

Bilbo blinked sleepily as Ori sided with Nori, causing the eldest of the three to balk and scowl; a lecture was coming that would hopefully distract them from anymore attempts at feeding him. If he kept this going long enough, until the food was cold and he had them convinced that he was far too exhausted for food- he winced when a tickle began in his throat, his breath catching. He let out a wet cough which drew their attention once more. Heart skipping a beat at the concerned eyes taking him in, he tried to think of a quick distraction. He hadn't lasted long enough and if he didn't approach this carefully, they might get Oin who would get Thorin and then he would have to manage far more than a tiny bite.

"...one, " Bilbo finally said, " I can manage a-a little bite of potatoes. I'm sorry, I guess today took alot out of me."

"Has that cough been going on for a while?" Dori asked slowly and Bilbo tensed; that didn't sound good. He could sense that a full force motherhenning was approaching, but never had such been directed at him, only small doses like the remaking of his bed. Looking to Ori, he was sent a sympathetic look which only made him more nervous. When Nori turned to the door without a word, he realized what was going to happen but before he could protest, a spoonful of potatoes was expertly shoved into his mouth. It didn't hit his teeth, simply deposited the food on his tongue and slipped out to once more dip into the creamy, buttery mush. He would expect nothing less of Dori, given that he had raised the petulant Nori and pouty Ori.

"Now, now, my dear, " came the coo as Ori sighed loudly over his plate, shaking his head at his elder brother, " You just sit back until a healer arrives. Why, don't you think Bombur out did himself with this meal? The spices, goodness me!"

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Ay, reckoned this may be a problem, " Oin said as he removed his earhorn from Bilbo's chest, " No real need to fuss, as long as we get him moving."

Thorin frowned, " This illness is from inactivity?"

"Ay, " the healer said, ignorant of Bilbo's horror because truly being told that his laziness, his lack of commitment to becoming healthy, was making him worse was painful; he had often thought of trying to work off the bites of food he consumed but he was so exhausted after the smallest of actions. He'd allowed that to be an excuse when truly he was just out of shape- Suddenly a hand was on Bilbo's arm, soothing him slightly but also making him aware of the discomfort to come; Thorin listened grimly as Oin explained, " Fluid settles in the lungs of the bedridden but I don't suggest making him move too much. He's not recovered enough."

"Would one daily excursion count?" Dori asks, " Perhaps he can join us in the dining hall later this week. The company would be thrilled for all fourteen of us to dine together again. And did Gandalf not say he would return?"

"We can visit the library!" Ori exclaims and Nori rolls his eyes, muttering about visiting the library being a punishment, not a reward.

"I believe that may be pushin' it, " Oin says with a laugh, thinking of the three staircases that lead to their libraries but wondering if the dining hall which was just one flight of stairs might be feasible, "I'm hopin' he gains another three, not walks 'em off."

Bilbo flinched hard at that and Thorin takes this as his cue to observe the dinner trays that had been pushed aside; of course the brother's Ri had emptied their plates (Nori had actually licked his clean, and quite obscenely) but Bilbo's was not even partly finished. The king lifted a spoon and turned to Bilbo reproachfully, " Has your cough made you lose your appetite? Gloin reported you didn't manage much earlier today."

"Perhaps-"

"Atleast finish the potatoes, lad, " Oin says as he reaches for the tray a swell, " You can manage four bites, yah?"

No, he really couldn't because three pounds gained stuck is his mind. He made no move to open his mouth and the grip on his arm tightened; the tray was shoved closer, cutlery and dinning ware rattling. The potatoes were lukewarm at best but he knew commenting wouldn't get him out of this. Thorin, given up irritated he looked, may stick the bowl in the fire and then pull it out expectantly to save time going down to the kitchen. No, Bilbo can't just finish the potatoes but he does because he knows if he says no what the alternative is; disappointment, anger, sad looks, his jaw being pried open...With the brothers Ri grumbling encouragement around him, and Thorin's scowl bearing down on him, Bilbo parts his lip with the same resignment of a prisoner to be hanged but manages those heavy four bites and a hearty sip of broth as well under the King's watchful eye. Beneath his blue sheets, he pinches the skin of his belly in punishment, wishing he could just disappear (he could though, couldn't he?).

\---

"Hey, watch it! You knocked food right outta Bilbo's hand!"

Most of the company froze at that, Bofur looking quite sheepish as he tugged at his hat; he looked around for the spoonful of yam but noticing it had been flung quite a bit away, he simply polished his own untouched utensil and handed it to the flushed hobbit, " Sorry, lad. You know how we get! "

Bilbo smiled weakly as he shivered just a bit; even with the thickness of Dori's gifted outfit and the fur lined coat that the princes had brought for him as they escorted him to the dining hall, he still felt chilled. Fili and Kili hadn't left his side since they barraged into his room at breakfast, taking lunch with him and the Brother's Ur despite some fuss about them already getting their turn with the hobbit. But he supposed they were just excited; he had been diligent the last five days, getting up as often as he could though sometimes the world grayed out a bit and he had to sit where he happened to be. Still, Oin had finally given the okay for a feast in the dining hall, and Bilbo had been both excited and nervous about taking on the challenge of stone steps that really weren't meant for stubby hobbit legs and the whole company when they were in a joyous mood. But still he had insisted on walking the whole way, with several stops when he thought he may do something as embarrassing as faint; Fili had kept a hand on him the whole time down the stairs and Bilbo had to hold his breath the last six steps to keep from panting loudly. By the time his feet reached the bottom, his temple blared with a phantom ache and his knees trembled. Kili offered to carry him, cheekily saying it was fitting for the guest of honor but Bilbo shook his head, unable to speak without gasping embarrassingly. So they waited it out, ending up being quite tardy to dinner, before Bilbo was finally able to walk on his own; Thorin, perhaps still upset about Bilbo not eating as much as he wanted (the acceptable amount of bites always changed, Bilbo thought, and he felt very much like a prisoner given the company seemed to be reporting to Thorin the Warden how many bites he did or didn't eat), looked insulted when they took their seats. Bilbo tried to ignore him and fidgeting now, he finally got around to Bifur's questions when he realized an answer was actually expected, " Indeed. Why, I remember on the road when just as I moved to bite into a biscuit Kili elbowed me-"

"Me?" said the prince in alarm as the company all turned in disapproval.

"-and the biscuit bounced off of Bombur who threw it at Balin for taking the last bit of peppered jerky-"

"Oh, " said the cook sadly as Balin cleared his throat.

"-who caught it and threw it over his shoulder, which made it ricochet off Ori's journal and into Fili's mouth!"

There was a smattering of huffs but for the most part, no one laughed or looked remotely amused. Ashamed, Bilbo looked down at his lap because he was certain they would find the story funny. Looking back, he thought of that time fondly even if it was back when they eyed his thick waist and rolled their eyes at the huffing and puffing he did after a brief stroll. Picking at his plate (nearly half of it had been slipped to nearby dwarrow and the rest was splattered around the dining hall) and trying to appear as if he had any interest in his food, he blinked when Bifur leaned in from across the table. He noted then that the company had long finished their meals and several unfamiliar dwarves were scooping up the clean or crumble speckled platters, or refilling ale. One even refilled Bilbo's honeyed milk, him and Ori being the only ones to drink such.

"Something we did often?"

Bilbo stared, squinting in confusion, " Pardon?''

"On the journey, " Fili said from the head of the table and the other two Durins looked to be listening quite intently, " You don't really, well, you're meek when it comes to food and we're curious as to whether we always just shoved you out of the way or if you...simply didn't want to eat back then."

"Fee, " Kili hisses with wide eyes and it is quite blunt, Bilbo thinks as he notes how quiet the table has gotten; even the servants bringing more food scurry off due to the sudden tension in the air. But Fili, much like Thorin, does not cave easily and when he wants information, he pursues it; his uncle, obviously listening as well, doesn't say a word as Bilbo struggles to find words that will not only fix what was becoming a ruined celebration, but maybe help them understand that he was not twisted, but simply trying to be better. 

"You did not force me into anything, " Bilbo mumbled and it was true that they didn't have to force him towards the end, " Simply, the journey introduced c-conditions unlike the Shire you see, determinations between necessity a-and indulgence, being hale and well, " Bilbo laughed breathless as his teeth threatened to click together incessantly due to his shivering, " B-being fussy and plump."

Gloin's chair screeched against the marble floor, drawing all their attention. Wordlessly, the dwarf left the dining hall.

"Why, you're chilled to the bone, " Balin says suddenly in the silence that follows, gentle as he stands and then reaching a hand out to Bilbo, " Why don't we get you to bed? Dwalin, gather his mug. He can finish his honeyed milk along the way but surely we can't sit here while he turns blue."

"Should have worn boots, " Nori mumbles which forces Ori into a rant about the indignities of putting hobbits in boots, something that makes Bilbo proud even if he's not exactly in the best mindset. Cold and so very tired, his mind can't wrap around Gloin's sudden departure but he allows himself to be led out of the room, waving as the company bid him good night. Dwalin walks behind him at a snail's pace as Balin stays to his left, a mug in his hands.  Bilbo doesn't know what's being said, just that the white haired dwarf is talking lowly and gently to him as they carry on. But they don't even make it to the staircase leading to the royal chambers before he's being scooped up, a cry of protest lost to Dwalin's annoyed huff. Thinking about how little he had been forced to consume as he's carried, how many bites had been knocked away before Kili noticed as the company celebrated their reunion, he finally slurred out as he was placed in his warm bed, 

"Missed eating together."

\---

"I said that, " the ginger haired dwarf wheezed, " I said that to 'em, when he was explaining elevensies and what was it, luncheons? I called hobbits-"

"Brother-"

The warrior didn't stop, tugging at his beard as his voice grew more strained, "And we knocked the food from his mouth, you heard him! We did this many a time, maybe everytime we ate. Didn't even care to notice as he slowly starved-"

"Brother-"

Gloin let out a frustrated roar, " To think we thought it was just the stress of the journey, that his injuries...Mahal have mercy, it's been us; we're killing 'em!"

Oin falls silent at that because guilt weighs heavily on him as well, and worse, he's faced with a decision. As the leader of Bilbo's care, does he confront the cause of the hobbit's illness or does he.,.try to treat him without speaking to the company? He knows they already feel responsible but to find that they truly are the root cause? Thorin would wear holes in his chambers until he could himself in the mines, Dwalin would no doubt punch holes in the castle walls until his shame cooled or the mountain collapsed (whatever came first), Dori would likely fall into fits, the princes would want to shave their chins bare and Ori would likely cry himself into a panic. Nori may disappear for good and the brother's Ur might leave for a journey of penance (Balin may join them, the old coot) and no. Certainly not. The mountain couldn't handle that, the fourteen in charge of restoring Erebor suddenly going off kilter with guilt but at the same time it was a great disservice to Bilbo. And worse, what if the company came to the right conclusion on their own, like Gloin?

"He's strong for a lil' thing, " Oin says as he rests a hand on Gloin's shoulder; he tries to hide his uncertainty, " He'll recover. We'll make sure of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rushed chapter, more coming though!


	8. Chapter 8

 

"Do you think me out of shape?"

Bilbo blinked, furrowing his brow as Kili curled up on the foot of his bed with a long piece of measuring tape in his hand; he was early for lunch. Fili was no where to be found, and regardless of the tape belonging to Oin, the healer is also no where in sight. Sitting up and then shivering when the quilt slid down and allowed the cold of the room to nip at his shoulders and cheeks, Bilbo eyed the dwarfling curiously. Kili, letting out an angry huff wrapped the tape around his wrist and mumbled that it was 7.2 inches. He lurches forward afterwards, unburying Bilbo's hand and wrapping the tape around his wrist; the hobbit protests but Kili has already read off the number.

"Should we measure out waists? Hips next? Our shoulders then, how about that? For I am certain that you are less than half of all my measurements. Surely hobbits are not suppose to be so small."

"Dwarrow and hobbits, " Bilbo began, placating though honestly alarmed, " Are different, my boy. I'm suppose to be smaller."

" Smaller, not minuscule. You've no muscle."

Bilbo reacts harshly to that, flinching deeper into his warm blankets because he had heard that from the prince before, when they were in the troll caves and Bilbo couldn't get a single treasure chest to budge. Kili had mumbled that the hobbit was all chub, no muscle in the least, and Bilbo had been as ashamed then as he was now. He almost laughed when the Kili of the present added that Bilbo had no fat on him now either because that was not so true, now was it? Sure, Oin had been upset when a weigh in revealed that he had indeed lost the three pounds he'd gained but the reactions of the company (when they had visited him or when one came to get him for an excursion) had been muted and he thought they had finally given up. In the two days since the celebratory dinner, he had only seen Bifur, Thorin, Oin and now Kili.

"You've got uncle in a tizzy, you know. He won't eat on his own either."

Bilbo frowned because he had seen the king this morning during breakfast; he had been quiet but had done as he always did, cleared his plate and then spent the rest of his free time before meetings drew him away coaxing the other into eating just one more bite. Six bites was usually acceptable and he had done that; Thorin hadn't looked angry when he left, just...seemed unusually quiet, " Why ever not? Is he ill?"

"No, it's grief, " Kili frowns, " He's grieving for you even though you're still here, because we're all afraid, Bilbo."

"You've nothing to fear, lad, " he said gently before he suddenly had an armful of dwarf.

"You're so small, " Kili says and Bilbo realizes the prince is crying, something that startles him because surely he is not that great of an issue but maybe he really has been selfish and blind to their concerns, be them unnecessary in his mind. Perhaps this is why the company has visited less, for they can no longer see him when each visit requires so much of them. Helping him change his sheets, feeding him, helping him walk short distances, fetching him things...he rightly feels ashamed. He had caused them great distress (but why, why was trying to keep from gaining weight so wrong in their eyes) but it is not as easy as simply eating when they ask, simply doing things when they suggest it. To be honest, he almost feels...happy when he doesn't eat. He rubs Kili's back as the young dwarf buries his face in Bilbo's sunken chest and it is much more noticeable, how much larger and more muscular Kili is, " You can't keep doing this. Please, Bilbo. We do not care if you outgrow Bombur. Just please, promise you will eat!"

"You don't know what you're asking, " he says, the words falling out before he can stop them.

Kili pulls back as tears fall down his cheeks, " I do! I know exactly what I ask and it is for you stop punishing yourself for our foolish words! The company regrets our treatment on the journey and care only that you recover. Erebor will be lost without you. Uncle will surely fade-"

The prince cuts off then, looking as if he has revealed something he shouldn't have; something about the verb Kili used to describe Thorin stands out but Bilbo doesn't have time to really thing about it because he's so upset, a swirl of anger and frustration inside him. He had come to appreciate being shouldered out of the way of food and the comments that always succeeded in lessening his appetite but for them to apologize for these things, when he was quite thankful for the dose of reality? It unsettles him so! He knows, regardless of Kili's guilt, that can't eat but they say he must eat. He knows that he shouldn't eat but they're asking him to eat and why is it so hard? He can't promise the prince such a thing but with the weight of the company's concern on him...but no, they may say they will not mind if he becomes plump once more but he can just imagine the return of jabs and sneers. He can't do it, he thinks as tears prick his own eyes; he shakes his head no as the prince leans into him once more. The chamber door opens soon after and Fili enters, looking grim as he had likely been listening in from the other side.

"If you will not promise, " Fili says hoarsely, " Then I will make a vow of my own. No food will pass my lips, unless you eat."

"No, you foolish thing, you can't do that-"

Kili interrupts, " I will not eat either. Would it pain you, seeing us wither away? Then you will know the pain we have all felt!"

"Boys, don't be ridiculous. You have duties. You have to keep your energy up, " Bilbo snaps, knowing he is quite stuck.

"So do you, " the princes say in unison, " You have been great help to the council and the gardens will not grow on their own!"

The two stop at that because they actually don't know that much about gardening or whether things will in fact grow on their own once put in the ground but they have at least expressed the sentiment that their hobbit is just as important. As it were, Balin was having quite a time getting dwarrow to help with what was considered a less than honorable craft, but Bilbo had expressed an interest in greenery, and his home in the shire showed that he had enough skill to make the sample garden prosperous.

"...Gardens?" Bilbo says slowly and the princes offer him small smiles, seeing that they had in some way won.

 ---

"It's curious to me, " Bilbo said, nodding appreciatively as Dwalin stabilized him with a bear like hand; he had still not been okay for a trip to the library but he'd been permitted this excursion since it was on the same floor as the dining hall, " Propagation times may differ due to the weather and soil but I have still never known crops to take so long."

"Well, the seeds are old, " Balin says, relieved that there was no ill will between them when they had taken the hobbit's idea of a green house and started a sample garden to see if they could grow something. They hadn't put much hope in it, which is why they hadn't gotten their recovering friend involved but the last shipment of supplies had been delayed and a good portion of the food tainted; their sample garden had suddenly become much more important, and they had no choice (especially with two fussy princes pestering them) but to request Bilbo take a look, " We still haven't identified all of 'em-"

Dwalin opened the door to the interior gardens, much of the room just dirt and weed piles but Bilbo could see several neat little mounds where the potato plants had been nestled. Still slightly out of breath from their journey, he knelt down slowly, rolling up the over-sized sleeves of his undershirt as his tunic gaped at the neck. He'd been lent a belt for his trousers but he paid all that no mind as he pinched a bit of soil between his fingers. The soil wasn't rich enough for healthy tubers, he knew then, but if they could transplant some silt from the lake, maybe the plants would grow. He had expected them to be much bigger after a week of watering but this wasn't the Shire. Standing up, he allowed himself to be led to where several small jars were set out on a long table, eyeing the unlabeled seeds with scrutiny; Hamfast would have been able to identify them all instantly but Bilbo had to take his time, lifting the glasses to eye level and even dipping his fingers in, smelling the seedlings. After what was likely a good five minutes, he had answers for his escorts.

"Do you have paper?" he began as he shook the glass that held the most seeds, " This is amaranth. The second glass is full of tomato seeds. Going down the line, right to left, we've-"

"You're certain, lad?"

Bilbo sent him a stern look before continuing to list, " This is onion and...ah-ha, the one next to it is mint. No, Dwalin, don't open that. It's fertilizer, as it already says. Strong if the smell is anything to go by. Where was I? Oh, mint, onion, and I'm almost certain this is eggplant..."

An hour passes by quickly, the hobbit insisting that he plant the seeds now that they've been identified instead of going back to his room; now that he's been out and about, his ability to sit around his room doing nothing has been weakened. Still, he's soon shaking with the effort of gardening, breath coming out harsh between his teeth. Straightening up dizzily, he's proud because at the very least they're all in the ground and the fishy fertilizer has been woven expertly into the dirt. Beneath his hands, the soil is warm and malleable after Dwalin had (with just a few complaints) pried the hoe from Bilbo's hands and began to wack at the compact soil. Balin had then done his part by taking the barrels of melted snow and watering the new and older mounds. They'll have a decent harvest if the seeds are given consistent care, he suspects, and a part of him eases thinking he'll have not only a project to look forward to and a way to be useful, but e'll once again have the soothing feel of earth beneath his feet. Honestly, he feels the happiest he's been since reaching the mountain and to his dim surprise, he feels more accomplished than fasting or meal skipping usually makes him feel.

"Has the company become busy?" Bilbo asked when he's being led away from the gardens; they're suppose to be heading to the dining hall for lunch but when he arrives, it's just the three of them, " I have not seen Gloin in particular since the celebratory dinner and Oin usually waves off my inquiries."

Both brothers began to sputter over one another for they had been approached by Gloin days ago, told of the warriors belief that it was his cruel comments that had inspired Bilbo's behavior. They had then reflected and while Balin did not recall commenting on Bilbo's original weight (he himself was quite wide, mind you), Dwalin had gone a little pale as he remembered his less than polite comments about the hobbit putting them behind schedule. It had occurred to them both, when Gloin had gone off to find more of the company they presumed, that this what they had been waiting for, the truth behind why a gentlehobbit with a healthy appetite in the Shire now had to be coaxed into bites of broth.

A gurgling growl drew their attention.

"Worked up an appetite, did ya?" Dwalin says and actually manages a grin.

Balin patted his belly, " Think we all did, doncha think? Come now, Master Baggins. We needn't wait for the others."

"I don't mind waiting, " Bilbo began, wrapping an arm around his rebellious stomach; still, he was pushed into a chair and quickly his plate was being filled by the two dwarrow. He tried to protest but he had to agree; his hunger which had been consistently a low gnawing feeling, had been ignited by his activity filled day. This made it all the more harder to resist the buttered roll and the sweetened milk pushed in front of him. He had been expecting this to happen, the gluttonous thoughts to return but he could resist. There was no King Under the Mountain to glare him into submission or Oin to lecture him into taking a fattening bite, or Dori or Bofur around to shove a spoonful into his mouth.

" Experienced extended snowfall, " Dwalin grumbles around a slab of meat, "Dain and the council called an emergency meeting, n' the rest headed to Dale to make sure all is well."

"You said there was a problem with the last caravan?" Bilbo asked.

"Ay, green potatoes and frostbitten meat. Elves expected full payment, believe it or not, " Dwalin snarled though Balin sent him a stern look, " Twas not a purposeful slight, laddie, but it has made this winter all the more troubling. Many dwarves have returned to the Ironhills, regardless of their earlier huffing about staying. But the caravans from the Blue Mountains should arrive any day now. Luckily the men of Laketown haven't taken up all of Dale but we still haven't cleared the debris in parts of the mountain, nor the better part of the city. We'd make due but truly the incoming caravans are a concern."

"Could Dain not accept them? Could we not convince them to continue their journey past Erebor?"

Balin shook his head and let out a soft laugh, " Stubborn dwarrow. More likely to freeze than see reason."

Bilbo bit his lip because there was a struggle going on within him, as he thought of the warm soil of the garden that had reached out to him for strength that he didn't have, " I'll do all I can with the garden. It likely won't be enough but it will offer us something-"

To his own surprise, and to the pleasure of both Dwalin and Balin, he began to eat without prompting. It's painful, his fingers painfully tight around spoon and fork and his chewing angry yet robotic. He had unwillingly imagined the garden wilting, imagined Thorin and the princes becoming gaunt and ill looking and... He nearly finished his plate, belly near to bursting and the tired contentedness of a full belly almost made him doubt his ability to return to the garden. But there was more to be done, magic to be woven into the earth if he could. He wouldn't get obese but he'd have to eat to do this, to be useful and wasn't it funny, that the very thing that made him useless was what would give him the strength to do something great? He stood and managed to bat away their hands and suggestions that he return to his chambers. He chuckled weakly despite the harsh, self-loathing whispers in the back of his mind when Dwalin began to pout and Balin, fiddling with his beard, continued to frown on their way back to the garden.

"Our crops will no grow on their own, now will they?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beeetter chapter? Bilbo makes progress!


	9. Chapter 9

"Idiots!" Oin had roared when he found the hobbit nearly too exhausted to raise his head off his pillow the following day.

He'd inspected Bilbo ear to heel and he seemed to be alright, if sore, and so he had left him alone with the princes and a strong, purposely foul tonic. (He knew about Fili and Kili's little promise and perhaps he was feeling a little vindictive about his patient not only going to the gardens without his say so, but actually turning soil and planting!) Dwalin and Balin knew better and oh, had he enjoyed tearing into them when he found them hiding out in the throne room. The King, word having gotten to him fast though he was suppose to be meeting with the Mining Guild, had joined him in his lecture soon enough. But to their surprise, they found themselves bidden elsewhere.

Thorin strolled beside him, the king still uncharacteristically quiet as they made their way down the hall, down the stairs leading away from the living chambers. They passed the dining hall, the hallway leading to the throne room and courts, passed the staircase that would take them to the other side of the mountain towards the mines and the treasury. At last, having walked a fair distance, they stopped. The garden door was intricately decorated and towered high above them, like most doors in Erebor but few doors were made of stained glass. Pushing it open, the two couldn't believe what they saw. Of course they had been inside when the weed removal was ordered and when snow was brought in to fill the old irrigation system; they'd had an old tinker inspect and okay the system before Balin had planted the handful of potatoes. But now, it was entirely diferent. The room was not just warmer, but more humid and yet the air...it seemed fresh (if a bit fishy from the fertilizer) despite the garden being at the center of a mountain.

"He was only here yesterday, " Oin sputters as Thorin treads carefully across damp soil.

Balin and Dwalin, heads bowed as the bore their verbal punishment, had told them when the yelling had dwindled that they needed to see the garden before they continued on in a rage. Of course the king and healer had thought it was a distraction but now, seeing four by ten rows of green sprouts when before there was just moist dirt...Thorin leaned down to gently caress a leaf and he didn't know how but he could feel Bilbo, his energy and care, in the small plant. The hobbit as he had seen him earlier was beyond tired and this was why, for nothing grew so quickly in Ereborian soil. 

"Truly a wonder, our burglar, " he said with a huff.

\---

Kili munched happily until he noticed Bilbo staring with an amused smile; petulant as always, the younger dwarf scowled and dropped his half eaten muffin when he noticed that Bilbo was just holding his steaming mug, not indulging. The hobbit rolled his eyes when Fili quickly followed, throwing down his napkin and looking on expectantly. It didn't seem to matter that that Bilbo had just finished his soup and grimacing, he took one sip of the foul, licorice tasting liquid. The boys chuckled amongst themselves and went back to the cakes Bombur had prepared to coax their appetite.

"Did Nori water the garden this morning, like I asked?" Bilbo asked because his muscles were still quite sore from his last visit.

"Yup, " Fili said, cramming a whole cake into his mouth; it was his sixth one and he didn't seem to be slowing down. The two princes really were keeping their promise of not eating unless Bilbo did, so it was a good thing he had resolved to do so...if only for a short time. After all, as much as it made him anxious and upset seeing and feeling his body fill out, he appreciated that his hands shook less and that his plants could receive atleast a trickle of Yavanna's blessing from him. He begrudgingly had to admit that that wouldn't have been the case if he was still...restricting.

"Did the Laketown fishermen manage to bring some soil as well?"

"Indeed they did, though it wasn't an easy thing given the lake's frozen along the edges, " Kili said with his mouth full, crumbs spewing everywhere; Bilbo nodded in disgust, covering the opening of his mug with his hand to keep the partially chewed spray from entering his drink.

"I appreciate their willingness to try. I think my tomatoes will-"

"Drink, " both princes said, eyes narrowed as they both paused with pastries in their hands. Bilbo sighed and trying to ignore the barrage in the back of his mind (so disgusting, so selfish, so weak), he took another sip.

\---

Thorin didn't know if he could stand it.

He had tried to speak with Bilbo, tried to convey his concern as the rest of the dwarrow had and yet he continued to watch as Bilbo failed to recover. He had caught a glimpse of hope when Oin announced that Bilbo weighed 53lbs after so much hardwork, after so much coaxing at every meal, but eighteen bites, usually less, was not enough to cure the hobbit...and then Bilbo had spoken the truth at the celebratory dinner, not eating more than two bites the entire time as he was nudged and shoved and stolen from by the company that called him friend. Thorin had observed this all in distant horror, bellows wanting to burst from his chest but Bilbo didn't look like he minded the excuse not to eat; that was when Thorin knew there was nothing he could do. Afterall, Bilbo had even said as much, though not in those words and when Gloin had come to him, battered with guilt...Bilbo lost three pounds in the time after that and Thorin bitterly acknowledged how foolish he was in believing that the burglar would ever find happiness at his side, especially when it was his cruelty that had led him to intentional starvation. As the days crept by, the king went through the motions but Dain often commented that he was not truly present at meetings; he wasn't, his mind in the living chambers, watching as Bilbo wasted away. The council was frustrated with him soon enough and Thorin...Thorin didn't care the way he was suppose to, simply walked like a ghost through the halls of his kingdom, for it was all nothing if it could not provide for the needs of the one hobbit he owed so much.

Perhaps to torture himself, he still ate meals with Bilbo who still tried so hard to keep the conversation light and lovely, but never on his own now; it all tasted like ash and sleep...sleep was tainted for he feared sleeping through the summons of the guards or a healer telling me that his friend had finally succumb. Because really, that was all that he could do, beg and plead...and wait.

He wondered if the halls of his ancestors would be welcoming, when likely his hobbit would go elsewhere, to the fields of his own maker and far away from Thorin; he did not believe they would be allowed together even if they perished simultaneously. And wasn't that fitting; he didn't believe anything could be called paradise if Bilbo was not there to scold him, to fuss over him, to cheer him up, and open his eyes to wonderful things- and it was when his mind was still wrapped in dark thoughts that he was delivered the news from his nephews, the miners around him humming in confusion though Bofur let out a loud, excited yell.

"He's eating, uncle! He's promised to!" Thorin senses there is a story there, " And Balin says the garden is magnificent!"

Garden, he thought because the additional statement seemed out of place. He wanted further news on Bilbo, if he had finished a meal completely, if he had looked like he was forced to swallow glass instead of carefully crafted dishes, if he had spoken of forgiving the company for their selfishness and their cruelty- It was certainly not Thorin who cured him and there didn't seem to be any event that would understandably cause the positive change. This was likely a hare-brained quick fix that would fail and disappoint. So truly, what did the sample garden that was unlikely to be of any use have to do with Bilbo?

And then he saw it, tailing after Oin and entering what felt much like a sanctuary that he was invading. Bilbo had done in one day what they had been incapable of in weeks, something that dwarves simple were not made to do. But, tearing his hand away from the sproutling, Thorin could not hope anymore, he thought as the heaviness return with the garden door shut behind him. The recovery had come long after he had stopped hoping for one and he, a King who had regained his kingdom after years of hardship and who had battled with the dragon sickness, and he, a warrior who had won against so many great foes, was not strong enough to survive Bilbo's descent into illness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else feel like the fic moves too fast, like sudden highs (Bilbo eats) and lows (Bilbo doesn't eat)? Thoughts and comments appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin waited until his internal clock told him that it was dawn to leave his bed, dressing and redoing his braids slowly and carefully though his fingers still felt oddly clumsy. When he went to fetch a small comb from his vanity, he eyed himself in the mirror but managed to overlook the circles around his eyes, the odd pallor of his face, the sudden wrinkle between his brows...his eyes focused on the hair on his chin.

Each day he contemplated trimming it but he knew the company would erupt, for regardless of his own feelings about it, they wouldn't understand that he felt as if he was in mourning. He turned away from his reflection with disgust, turning to the door in a rush. After all, the king thought as he walked down the dimly lit hall and pushed open a familiar chamber door, how could they understand when the source of his grief was peering back at him with sleepy eyes? He would have assumed the hobbit had just woken if not for the fact that he was on top of the covers and dressed in the spare day wear Dori had supplied. The black and red tunic did well hiding his narrow shoulders and concave waist though the bony ankles sticking out were obviously a sign of unhealthiness. it was hard, noting such slight progress when his mild always focused on what problems remained. Atleast Oin had not reported that Bilbo was still losing his hair, for hearing it when the healer had been trying to originally bandage the burglar's head wound...Thorin swallowed thickly as he shut the door behind him.

" G-good morning. Though...you do not look...as if it is. Do I need to have...a-a word with the council...about running you ragged?"

Thorin huffed as he sat down in the armchair beside Bilbo's bed; the hobbit was trying hard to hide that he was out of breath and Thorin wished he could have arrived in time to prevent him from overexerting himself, " If I did not know better, I would say you just told a king that he looked ragged!"

"You do, friend. Sorry to say, " Bilbo reached with a trembling hand and Thorin leaned in automatically; a strand of hair was soon gripped between thin, bluish fingers, " You missed this while braiding... Or was this intentional? It is simply different...than how I've seen your hair."

"I...I was rushed. I woke late and did not want to miss our appointment, " Thorin lied and watched as Bilbo's face softened with affection, " Can I assume since you are already dressed for the day that you were eager as well?"

"Of course. Don't tell the others. The boys'll be insufferable, but...you're my favorite to sup with. "

Thorin couldn't help but smile at that, especially when Bilbo's ears started to turn a lovely pink; he waited for Bilbo's breathing to calm before finally retorting, " Oh? And what makes me worthy of such a position?"

"Well, on good days you're not hard to look at, " Bilbo said cheekily which earned him a scoff; unaware of his actions, the hobbit had taken to rubbing his hands in an attempt to warm them, " But I think I like best of all the witty banter you supply. Why, to think how I missed out while on the journey given how your preferred communication with me then was barking orders and glares. But that is all behind us and believe it or not, I look back on that time fondly."

The king's smile had vanished, "How can that be?"

"Because it makes our current friendship all the more amazing and precious, " Bilbo said sternly, " I long ago said I forgave you, Thorin Oakenshield, as you said you did me. Do I need to keep repeating myself? Should I mistake your apology as being just as fragile as you take mine to be? The past is something to learn from, not something to keep us from the wondrous things ahead."

"You are certain that wondrous things are ahead?" Thorin said flatly after a decent pause, taking Bilbo's small, cold hands in his; as he rubbed them and felt every bone and muscle beneath paperlike skin, he didn't feel very optimistic, " Such as?"

"Was it not you just a few weeks ago who was sure Erebor would be a marvel within the next five years? So much is ahead, " Bilbo looked into the king's eyes, sighing in relief when his hands started to warm under his ministrations, " We'll make it through this winter, if that is your concern. I know we will and if you truly need a pick me up, there's atleast one good thing happening today, in the next few minutes perhaps."

"Oh? And that is?" Thorin asked hesitantly, his head turning when a knock sounded from the door.

Bilbo forced a smile, " Breakfast."

\---

"Your majesty?"

Thorin startled, turning his head left and right until he noticed an Ironhill dwarf carefully collecting the dishes from his morning meal. Sitting up, he felt oddly disoriented before he remembered what had transpired; he and the hobbit had eaten their fill and when Thorin admitted to not having meetings until noon...Thorin nodded at the inquiring dwarf from where he lay on the bed next to Bilbo, careful not to wake him. The king had tried to stay awake when Bilbo had fussed at him until he had settled down with him for a nap, but the hobbit's even breaths had apparently lulled him to sleep. He felt guilty for doing so, and oddly ashamed at how rested he felt after so much restlessness but what if something had happened to Bilbo when he slept? He couldn't allow himself such negligence in the future.

"Master Balin was looking for you. A-a caravan arrived."

Dread settled in the king's stomach as he careful slid to his feet; he didn't want to leave Bilbo but he had no choice; this had been what the council had been fretting about most, " How many? Are they well?"

"Fifteen, sir, " the dwarf cleared his throat, " Princess Dis led them."

\---

"Brother."

His sister's lips quirked and while she was dirty and harried from travel, he was sure he had never seen her so beautiful as she stood in the halls of her ancestors as a grown dwarrowdam. He had wondered if she would ever get the opportunity and while his heart ached knowing Frerin would not get to see their homeland restored, atleast Dis who had the simplest of memories of the mountain, would get to. Wrapping her in his arms in a tight hug that she returned just as fiercely, he felt just the tiniest bit lighter.

"Little sister, " he choked into her mud splattered chest plate, " Surely you could have lasted one more season in Ered Luin?"

She scoffed as they pulled away, her blue eyes taking in every detail of her brother; her happiness dimmed at what she saw, " Certainly not! Especially when I learned of the details you omitted from your letter! You and my boys were unharmed? Truly? For Dwalin says otherwise-"

"Dwalin!" Thorin snarled, earning him a pinch from Dis and a shrug from his brother in arms.

"Don't you blame him for his honesty! Thinking you could fib to me in the first place, ha! Now, show me your mountain, brother. And if my boys don't come to greet their poor mother in the next few moments, I'll throw the biggest fit! "

"You do not wish to rest, sister? Surely, we can settle you in and then send the boys to you? "

Dis rolled her eyes as Dwalin headed off, mumbling that he would retrieve the trouble-making princes personally, " Come now, am I ever the type to just rest? The rest of the caravan was already escorted by Gloin to a place to recuperate. I denied the offer then and I'll keep denying it until I am satisfied. And where is the rest of the company? I wished to thank them for their part to play, especially this halfling that Dwalin mentioned? Why to think one of the gentlefolk of the Shire helped you reclaim Erebor! ...Thorin?"

The king swallowed several times before he finally found the will to speak, " I'm...I'm afraid our hobbit is not doing well."

"Your hobbit?" It was a rather blunt question but it was their way; surely his sister could sense that he had changed, that he was marked by grief that could only say one thing about his relationship with Bilbo. He watched as Dis' eyes softened and then she seemed alarmed by something she saw in Thorin's face. Her hand fell on his shoulder and then, he realized she was eyeing the braid that Bilbo had graciously offered to do when his hands wouldn't quiet cooperate after breakfast. He hadn't realized how sleep deprived he was until now, after his mind had regained some clarity after his nap, " We have a lot to discuss, brother. I think it would be best if you started at the beginning."


	11. Chapter 11

" Amaranth is a warm weather crop originating from the southern trade routes. Being quite adaptable, disease-free, and drought-tolerant plants, amaranth thrives in rich, imported soil and supplemented, well drained Ereborian earth. However, once established, plants produce abundant harvests even under dry conditions, " Ori skimmed a few paragraphs, turned a page and then continued translating the text from Khuzdul, "Traditional hand-harvesting methods can obtain bounteous harvests and the fluffy, hair like excess can easily be removed through shifting and- Bilbo!"

Said male was down on one knee, panting as he tried to regain his composure. He had maybe over did it a little, watering and offering the smallest of his crops a little extra attention, when a particularly harsh dizzy spell came over him. He closed his eyes, shivering as Ori's hands came to grip his shoulders; the dwarf sounded quite frantic as he urged Bilbo to sit for a moment. He did and finally opening his eyes, he saw not only a very pale Ori but the farming manual laying in the moist soil. That certainly wasn't good for it and when he said as much, he was met with quite a bit of sputtering.

"Nevermind the book! Can you stand, Bilbo? Should a guard fetch a stretcher? Oh dear, me letting you overwork yerself-"

"I'm alright, lad, just a bit light headed. Think I indulged a bit too much at lunch."

Ori didn't know what to say to that but when the hobbit refused to stand, simply settled in the dirt between his 12 inch high plants...the scribe didn't want Bilbo to be upset with him, not after learning about how it had been the company that had encouraged their burglar to starve. Gloin had come to all of them and spared them nothing; he yelled out his guilt and then questioned them intensely about whether more off handed comments could have exacerbated Gloin's own cruelty. Truly, the warrior blamed himself for wasn't his comment the first and wasn't his snide interruption of Bilbo sharing his culture the beginning of this whole fiasco? Oin and Thorin, and most of the company, disagreed. Ori remembered expressing disgust about Bilbo liking green things in both Bag End and Rivendell. Nori recalled that he and Dori may have teased Bilbo about his softness, when they stopped to bathe just outside of Bree. Ori suspected the whole company could recall one moment in which they had said and/or did something that may have hurt Bilbo and with Bilbo so willing to forgive and brush off their distress... Ori wished there had been more information available about hobbits for maybe things would be different if they hadn't been so ignorant of hobbits.

"I think we should get back to yer chambers. Wouldn't you like a nap?"

"A caravan of 15 arrived yesterday, " Bilbo reminded the nervous scribe as he carefully avoided arguing, " We are assuming that they are the only ones who will make it to Erebor. That, including Bard, is 378 mouths to feed."

Ori frowned as he hugged the manual to his chest; he wasn't a fan of the garden given that the smell of fertilizer and soil and all that irritated his nose, plus the humidity made his bowlcut frizzy, but he would stay as long as Bilbo wanted. The princes were suppose to spend the morning with Bilbo, leaving the brother Ri to escort their friend to the library but the Princess had arrived late last night along with Gimli and his mother, " No one expects you to feed a mountain, Bilbo, 'specially not in your condition."

"No one is pressuring me to, " Bilbo admits with a chuckle; he was thankful to the company, that they would accept that this was his only way of helping, " But something has to be done and if I'm able, I'll of course be the one to do. I'm a hobbit after all, and there's nothing more unrespectable than letting someone go hungry. Why, watching you all ration on the journey was upsetting enough. Now a whole kingdom?"

Ori paused at that because something seemed...off about those words. He tread carefully and tried to be casual as he asked, " We did quite well until Mirkwood, though. We had extra rations, I recall Bombur mentioning, when we were ambushed in the Misty mountain. And Mister Beorn was quite generous..."

Bilbo looked a bit upset, " But were you not all ravenous from having to do so much? I mean, I hardly raised a hand to help and I certainty-... Nonetheless, my garden should help. Let me turn on the drip system and then we can leave. I know you wanted to head to the library sooner rather than later."

"Bilbo, " Ori wanted to ask so many question but he didn't know were to start or how to broach the subject of Bilbo's...condition and its origin. He was starting to think he was starting to understand the circumstances behind it, for the company's theories always seemed more vindictive and solemn then Bilbo had ever com across. but it still wasn't something that could easily or quickly be resolved. In the end, the moment passed as the irrigation system was activated and they made their way to the door, the scribe settling on looking at his friend with admiration and concern. Bilbo was so determined to help, so willing to shoulder responsibilities even if their weight was nearly crushing, even after the company's cruelty...suddenly, he didn't mind the garden all that much.

"Can we keep my little spell between us?" Bilbo asked gently, " With Princess Dis here, I would hate for them to worry. This should be a happy time, after all!"

"I-" Ori bit his lip, " Just this once. You'll...you'll tell us if it happens again?"

Bilbo smiled and nodded, letting the dwarf lead the way to the library at a slow and steady pace.

\---

"56lbs, " Oin said carefully to the room, "I'd say that's better than 'pected given the lad's in that garden day and night."

"Everything grows so fast, " Dori said in awe from where e stood stoking the fire, " The tomato plants are already flowering, believe it or not! "

Bofur, usually the more optimistic of them all, sighed as he looked around the parlor room; the twelve of them were crammed in, that was for sure, " Aye, he's better for sure cause of those green-growing things but gettin' him to rest a bit more would be nice."

"Maybe he'll do it if we ask, " Kili boasted, " He always eats when we ask or we just put down our forks and-"

Oin let out a heavy sigh, " Lads, I'm not sure if tha's a good sign er not. If ye force him to, he may-"

"Backtrack " the company looked at Bifur in alarm, who had crossed his arms rather defensively as he interrupted their solemn healer, " Come off it now, we all know it'll happen sooner or later. Months of this and ya think he'll be alright in a snap? "

"What can be done then? Can we prevent it? " Gloin pleads, " Is...is he seekin' to punish us? Perhaps if we seek penance-"

"I don't think, " Ori bit his lip when the room turned to him, surprised to hear his timid voice, " Bilbo stopped eating just because we were cruel to him. I think...he felt guilty, and he thought giving us his rations would be a fair contribution. And after the battle, I think with the Arkenstone..."

"The little idiot's trying to prove his worth still, " Nori says atlast with a harsh laugh though his tone is guilty by the end.

"So that's why he's getting better now, because he wants to help the kingdom, because he wants us to be okay, " Fili says shamefully as Kili looks down at his feet, " But surely he knows that starving himself to death helps no one? He'll come to realize this can't continue."

"Months of believin' we thought him useless, " Balin says tiredly, " Reckon he's twisted the truth quite well, in his mind."

"He thinks he has to earn his keep, " Gloin summarizes and continues to look grief-stricken, " Then, truly we are still at fault for failing to convince him of our friendship. "

"Does fault matter at this point? Ya can lead a horse to water, but ye can't make it drink. Not forever. " Dwalin says gruffly when the princes try to argue; no one says anything else after that, " And we've Thorin to think about."

"Maybe amad being here will help?" Fili says and no one argues because they had seen the listless way Thorin walked about the castle and the disinterest he showed to all things; they had seen it in many a dwarf who had experienced loss but they hated to think their burglar was beyond reach, " If Bilbo makes some progress, maybe uncle will get better too. Or perhaps he'll recover on his own. It's a stressful time. We can give him time off to rest and see if that helps."

Balin looked down at his lap as the older prince's gaze washed over him; the rest of the room averted their gaze as well because they had been limiting Thorin's duties already it seemed with less to do, there was less to keep Thorin upright. But they wouldn't share that; they wanted atleast some of them to remain hopeful. Dismissing their meeting, the twelve of them went back to their duties whether it be in the mines, in the kitchens, in the libraries, in the laundry, or standing guard. There was much to be done with since foul weather waited for no dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too pleased with these last three chappies but they've been sitting as a Google doc for two days so...xD


	12. Chapter 12

"It's consuming, " Thorin admits after a long pause, " I...feel as it has taken all that I am but there is no way to stop it, nor is there a way to save our burglar when he so clearly does not want to remain."

" Truly you are not so pigheaded to think he is purposely trying to leave you. He is eating now, as you said, " Dis says carefully after Thorin finishes his summary of the last six months; she had looked quite peeved at each mention of injury or near death experience but her natural aloofness had returned when her brother had began to explain why he was so clearly fading, " And yet you act as if he has already been entombed."

"You have simplified the issue, " Thorin accuses.

"Oh? Or perhaps you have simply over-complicated it, as you are oft to do. Your hobbit is burdened with an illness of the mind that keeps him from eating, and your company pessimistically believes his progress is not worthy noting. Perhaps he will relapse but he has not. He is eating, as you said, even if it is out of a desire to be useful."

"I believed that him being near me was the cause of his illness, only to learn it was my and the company's original treatment of him. And now he doesn't seem to realize how much we admire him, " Thorin rubbed at his face, feeling so very tired, " I have nothing to offer him. I do not know to help him recover."

Dis insists, " You do not have to have all the answers, brother, nor do you need to invent a cure. You simply need to be at his side, as he has been at yours. "

Thorin flinched back because there it was; he knew he had allowed himself to become stagnant out of fear of his efforts failing. But Bilbo had not done so when his own illness of the mind had overcome him, and there had been much more of a risk confronting a mad Thorin than the presently ill Bilbo. Perhaps pride played into it, for he did not want to try for naught but he begrudgingly admitted that fear was a large part; he was afraid of having to watch Bilbo refuse to eat, relapse if he did begin to eat, and waste away because of and in spite of Thorin... But now the king saw things a bit more clearly. No matter painful it was given his dark state of mind, he had to realized Bilbo was not gone yet. Thorin did not need to plan his own fading, as some odd, misplaced attempt at comforting himself.

" I am not strong enough to save him, sister."

Dis sighed heavily as if Thorin was being purposely thick headed, " You don't have to save him. You just have to stay. "

Thorin fell silent at that because oh how he wished that the solution didn't have to be so frustratingly vague. Still, he found himself nodding at his sister and wondering how she became so wise. He suspected she had learned much from the loss of her husband, and the hardship of living as a refugee but still, she had seen so clearly what he had been blind to, something that Bilbo demonstrated as well. Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door and the two of them whipped their heads around as Fili and Kili came barreling inside with worried expressions. It was nearly dinner time, Thorin noted so shouldn't the princes be with Bilbo, to make up for Ori staying with their hobbit earlier? 

"He's locked himself away, " Kili said without preamble; the king's jaw clenched, " We...we mentioned that he had put on a few pounds, trying to compliment him and...he won't speak to us."

Dis gave Thorin a hard shove, " Well?"

He didn't need to be told twice. He was gone in a flurry of robes and pounding footsteps.

\---

Bilbo was pacing, Thorin discovered and when grey eyes turned to him, the king found them wet with tears. Tucking the master key into his pocket sheepishly, he slowly approached his friend. But to his surprise, the other did not flinch away. His pacing stopped and with one whimper and sniffle...a face was soon pressed into the front of Thorin's tunic. After a long moment of uncertainty, the king wrapped his arms around Bilbo and hung his head so a curtain of hair fell over the hobbit and his bearded chin rested atop messy, thinning curls.

"I-I'm sorry."

Thorin stood rigidly.

"I'm sorry, " the hobbit repeated hysterically and Thorin could only grip him tight, his heart breaking with every tremble of the smaller body, " I'm trying so h-hard but if I do, a-and what if it only gets worse? Do...do you understand?"

"Yes, and no, " Thorin admitted hoarsely but he didn't feel so overwhelmed as the moments passed; he remembered Dis' words loud and clear, which helped him to avoid falling into melancholy. He had underestimated Bilbo once more it seemed, how hard he was trying and how much he needed Thorin to be a pillar of strength. He felt comforted almost, that while Bilbo was struggling, he was in fact trying and that he considered the king to be of use, to be a source of comfort in spite of it all; to think Thorin had given up on him so easily and been so unhelpful as he lost himself in his own dark thoughts, " The princes did not mean to upset you. They have rescinded their despicable threat."

"No, no. They didn't mean to- I shouldn't have reacted like this, " Bilbo whispers and Thorin notices then that the dinner tray had been knocked over, the soup and honeyed milk soaking the area rug though a towel had atleast been thrown over the mess, " I was doing better. The garden-"

"We don't expect you to be recovered in a day, " Thorin chokes out because he doesn't know how to ask Bilbo to recover not just for the garden, not just to help the kingdom and it's king but himself, " Perhaps I've put too much pressuring on you, needing you as much as I do."

"Thorin, " Bilbo whimpers, " I want to be of use to you. I-I feel honored that you trust me with so much-"

" You are the one who has remained beside me through endless peril but bore it with your chin raised, " Thorin says determinedly, his eyes blazing with renewed confidence, " It is no surprise to any that I trust you with everything. This sickness that ails you, that the company is the cause of-"

"The company didn't make me this way, " Bilbo insists though the words "portly" and "plump" haunt his dreams often enough, " I-I made myself this way. It...Thorin, I hate it, that I have caused you all so much grief. But it's not an enemy I can take Sting to."

"Bilbo..."

"This cannot be resolved with putting an axe through an orc's head, " Bilbo says dryly, earning him a huff before his grim voice continued on, " It's...it's like something is eating me up inside."

Thorin flinched at that because had he not expressed a similar feeling to Dis? He swallowed thickly as he kept Bilbo from pulling away, " Then we will fight this together, until we find a weapon that will do."

Bilbo wrapped small arms around his friend's waist and Thorin felt like a whirlwind of repressed emotion was stirring inside him; he hated that he had let himself give up so quickly and he was grateful that he seemed to have gotten through to Bilbo but he was scared of what was ahead. Would Bilbo backtrack? Would he keep making progress? Would he allow Thorin to help him? Thorin didn't know. Yet, he appreciated the confusing tornado in his head because he much preferred it to the apathetic half-life he had settled into previously. He believed Bilbo now, that wondrous things were ahead, not because he expected them to simply come about but because as Dis made clear, he could fight tooth and nail to bring them about. And he had no doubts that the company was willing to do the same.


	13. Epilogue

The king offers him his arm.

"The council awaits your input, Master Hobbit, as an official member, " Thorin says gravely though he offers a quick wink, " And Dori is likely overwhelmed with anticipation, waiting to see you in your garments."

Bilbo offers a small smile, thinking of his promise to himself that Dori would never have to let out his clothing. He had thought this before he had tried on the blue and grey formal outfit, finding out soon after that the apparel in actuality hung off him. Dori, disappointed by his poor estimation, had offered to take each item in the first time he emerged from his chamber in them but... Months had passed since then, months of struggle as well as success. Now they fit perfectly well, showing off his slim but not unnaturally small waist. His shoulders would never be broad but no longer did his shoulder blades and spine poke out so obviously. As well, his calves and forearms actually had muscle to show as they peeked from his hemmed trousers and rolled up undershirt sleeves. Truly, part of him knew he looked healthy and quite proper with the tiniest bit of a gut and yet...he swallowed down his anxiety and tried not to think of the food he'd left on his lunch tray, as well as all the food he hadn't.

Day after day, he carefully toed the edge and eating had become a habit, not a pleasure. He still had his worries and his rules, making sure to balance time in the garden with how much he was served that day. On good days he may head to the kitchen and whip up a desert, allowing himself a few bites if only to guarantee quality and for occasional nostalgia. On bad days he forces himself to clean his plate, like it's a punishment and not a promise to Erebor's king and company, and then creates extra work for himself to do that leaves him with sore muscles, bruises and additional callouses. He hated those days the most and yet he still felt the eerie joy when he made himself feel nauseous from exercise or if completed the work, therefore negating the food he consumed. He tried his best not to but sometimes he missed it, the sense of purpose, the sense of control it offered; the company no longer supped with him and supervised each bite (afterall, Oin was never quiet about whether he lost a pound or two, so he was careful to maintain his currently healthy weight though gaining was out of the question) though Thorin never missed breaking his fast with him. The king's presence did alot to reassure him off his worth but sometimes...

"After all you did in regards to our food stocks this past winter, " Thorin says carefully, " You have no reason to worry. And if nothing else, you are surely aware Dis will defend your honor against any who don't regard you well."

Bilbo laughed at that because it had taken Dis all of twelve seconds after meeting the hobbit before a conspiratorial smile spread across her face; he'd been gathered in the tightest hug he had experienced so far, when she announced, " So you are my brother's burglar! And what an adorable burglar you are! Thorin, I demand you share him with me. "

"He's not a pet, mother, " Fili had said in exasperation.

"I know that, " the princess had scoffed as she set a dizzy Bilbo down with a smile; though her smiled dimmed just a bit when her hands felt jutting bone beneath the hobbit's clothes, " But it should be noted that I am not nearly as moody as my brother, Master Baggins. I don't think any would discount you if you came to prefer yours truly."

"Amad!"

The king had sputtered at that but it was too late; a beautiful friendship had begun and Bilbo had no doubts that the princess would fight any who dared look at him wrong, and behind her would be a king, two princes, a healer, a scribe, a miner, a toymaker, a chef, two warriors, a thief, a weaver, the king's adviser, and a wizard (if he ever returned as he promised). Afterall, they had yet to give up fighting for him now, when the enemy was his own insecurity; truly no enemy could evade his friends, and now, at last he felt the courage to head to his first official council meeting as a 73lb hobbit and adviser (dear friend) to the King Under the Mountain. Tugging at his tunic self consciously, he took a deep breath and let it out because the negativity beneath his skin would likely never leave him but it could be dulled, could be pushed down. After all, he thought as he turned to look into passionate blue eyes, Bilbo was fighting hard too, for the peace of mind of his friends and perhaps himself and a healthier sense of control. Finally he stepped forward and grasped Thorin's arm. The appetite of his guilt and sorrow had been satiated momentarily and he smiled happily with healthy, plump cheeks.

"Well, off we go, then."

END


End file.
